(Once in a...) Blue Agave Moon

By Neff

In "(Once in a...) Blue Agave Moon", long-time friends reunite after the collapse of Western civilization and the banking system due to terrorist attacks on the internet. There is Metaphysical Action/adventure mixed with Enhanced and Fortified Non-Fiction involving smuggling, moonshining, Quantum Theory, General and Special Relativity, Literotica for Science Geeks, Transmorfrigration, New-Age religion, sex and drugs.
It poses the question "What would you do after you realized that you traded your life for money, and your Instincts for Reason?"

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Mar 14, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667861753

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copyright © 03/13/2022

ISBN: 978-1-66786-175-3

Dedicated to Anastasia

Table of Contents

Disclaimer

Preface

Chapter One: A New World Order

Chapter Two: A Long Day’s Journey

Chapter Three: The Currency of the Realm

Chapter Four: The Winds of Change

Chapter Five: A Small World Gets a Whole Lot Bigger

Chapter Six: Daisy-Chain Ouroboros

Chapter Seven: A Straight Line?

Chapter Eight: Arizona

Chapter Nine: ‘Shy-Girl’

Chapter Ten: All Things Return to the One

Chapter Eleven: Silent Witnesses

Chapter Twelve: A Modest Proposal

Chapter Thirteen: But Why?

Chapter Fourteen: By Naming Me, You make me a Thing

Chapter Fifteen: That Thing that You Do

Chapter Sixteen: Genius Waitress/Warrior

Chapter Seventeen: Blue Knowledge...Wisdom

Chapter Eighteen: The Knowledge of Good and Evil

Chapter Nineteen: Cleanliness is next to...?

Chapter Twenty: (Cleanliness is next to Nakedness)

Chapter Twenty-One: Always Know Where Your Towel is

Chapter Twenty-Two: A Convergence of Many Things

Chapter Twenty-Three: More Things

Chapter Twenty-Four: A Few Too Many Things,

Chapter Twenty-Five: (Well?)

Chapter Twenty-Six: The Other Elephant

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Next Morning

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Some Knowledge about the Knowledge...

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Not Too Good to be True

Chapter Thirty: ‘Moe, Larry...The Cheese!’

Chapter Thirty-One: Indeterminacy

Chapter Thirty-Two: Disrobe, or D’at Robe?

Chapter Thirty-Three: Begin the Beguine

Chapter Thirty-Four: The Garden, the Serpent, and Eve…

Chapter Thirty-Five: The Knowledge of Good and Evil

Chapter Thirty-Six: Science/Spirits/Sentience/Sapience

Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Spirit World

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Common Knowledge

Chapter Thirty-Nine: What You’ve All Been Waiting for...

Chapter Forty: ‘All things return to The One.’

Chapter Forty-One: Finally....

Chapter Forty-Two: Meanwhile…in a Shared Separate Reality….

Chapter Forty-Three: It’s (Not) Like You Never Left

Chapter Forty-Four: The Night of the Day of Reckoning

Chapter Forty-Five: Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?

Chapter Forty-Six: Who Are You Callin’ Monkey-Boy?

Chapter Forty-Seven: The Ex-Wives I Never Married

Chapter Forty-Eight: Mordecai the Warrior

Chapter Forty-Nine: April in October: Samhain Lifts the Veil

Chapter Fifty: April Heralds the Winds of Change

Chapter Fifty-One: Twin Sisters of Different Mothers and Fathers

Chapter Fifty-Two: BLOOD MOON/BLUE MOON/SAMHAIN

Chapter Fifty-Three: The Algorithm

Chapter Fifty-Four: (Don’t pretend You Didn’t See this Coming)

Chapter Fifty-Five: Here They Come

Chapter Fifty-Six: Chianna and Jedidiah...(and now you know)

Chapter Fifty-Seven: Dharma vs. Drama

Chapter Fifty-Eight: Which do You Choose?

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Never Again

Chapter Sixty: Zero Degrees, North by Midnight;

Chapter Sixty-One: Forgiveness, Absolution, Understanding

Chapter Sixty-Two: Never look away

Chapter Sixty-Three: No Secrets

Chapter Sixty-Four: It’s As If You Never Left.

Chapter Sixty-Five: Actually, you aren’t, you don’t, and I’m not.

Chapter Sixty-Six: Supply Run

Chapter Sixty-Seven: Only When I Have To...Two?...Too?

Chapter Sixty-Eight: Merry Met

Chapter Sixty-Nine: Every Dog has his Day

Chapter Seventy: Win-Win

Chapter Seventy-One: And Now We Begin Again

Chapter Seventy-Two: ‘Just the facts, Ma’am...Not!’

Chapter Seventy-Three: A Roomful of Mirrors

Chapter Seventy-Four: Blue Moon. Blood Moon. Samhain.

Chapter Seventy-Five: The Tribe of Mankind

Chapter Seventy-Six: Chianna and Elliott: One Step Beyond

Chapter Seventy-Seven: (The Fall From) Amazing Grace

Chapter Seventy-Eight: Jedidiah’s Soliloquy

Chapter Seventy-Nine: Girl’s night Out

Chapter Eighty: Boy’s Night

Chapter Eighty-One: Mordecai the Shape-Shifter

Chapter Eighty-Two: Planck Time

Chapter Eighty-Three: Rebel Takes One for the Team

Chapter Eighty-Four: Parting Words

Chapter Eighty-Five: Sayonara, Y’all

Disclaimer

ALL CHARACTERIZATIONS PRESENTED HEREIN ARE (MORE OR LESS) FICTITIOUS AND AT LEAST SLIGHTLY FACETIOUS.

ANY AND ALL REFERENCES OR RESEMBLANCES TO ANYONE IN PARTICULAR (LIVING OR DEAD) IS (MORE OR LESS) PURELY COINCIDENTAL.

It is a cast of certain characterizations of any number of personality types into a series of fictionalized events within the genre of a Fantasy about the future and Science Fiction.

All characterizations were an attempt to convey an homage to an extraordinary set of people in extraordinary times. I would love to meet anyone who believes that they can fill those shoes.

(AND THE DEAD ARE STILL TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.)

Preface

Any number of threads within this novel involved research of activities and information that could be interpreted as dangerous or outright illegal. Not all of us stay completely within the boundaries of the law one hundred per cent of our lives.

This novel was inspired a few years ago, during a most rare and auspicious series of astronomical and astrological co-incidences while eating a local Florida variety of mushrooms, aka: Psilocybe Cubensis with a couple of solitary Wiccan spiritual practitioners of the occult; daughters of the Moon.

It was also the first weekend that I had successfully distilled fermented Agave.

My life has been a series of questionable, real, or imagined crimes as well as cultural and societal indiscretions inspired by a gloriously select few individuals of similar mind and intent with the very best of intentions.

Casual criminals...(blue jeans allowed.)

Some of us may now be your neighbors.

Some of you may think that you see yourself in any number of the descriptions listed herein. God bless every fucking one of you. We weren’t so much bad as we were Shameless, Fearless, and Lawless....

You’ve been conspicuous in your absence, and I feel the deepest sorrow and regrets for those of you who weren’t there.

Many may think that those times are past. The truth is that it is not about just a popularized trend to be blindly followed by anyone who would rather read People magazine than think for themselves. Fads come and go, yet what is real or true remains.

Also, I have frequently described myself as a town crier with Tourettes. By that, I mean that many turns of a phrase or the collective syncretized practices that I employ, including a great deal of stream of consciousness may result in not including footnotes, or particular references so as to potentially be inferred as something approaching plagiarism, but truthfully, in most cases I have almost no idea of the actual sources of many things that I may write at the time I’m writing them, and once written, I have been disinclined to look for references or write footnotes.

After all, it’s a novel, not a term-paper.

I just want to tell a good story, spin a yarn or two, full of exaggerations and sometimes downright lies, because beneath it all, it’s almost ‘by whatever means necessary’ that storytellers ever propose to invoke the magic of their craft.

Just the same, I only hope to entertain, and maybe even encourage you to think. I hope that you like it. And every time that you find some ‘stolen’ reference or borrowed image, just give yourself a great big pat on the back for being so smart and educated.

Genius and plagiarism stand hand in hand, the whole world ‘round.

Please note that any conversations not spoken, but rather telepathically communicated are bracketed by ** and **

Chapter One:

A New World Order

Elliott Monroe awoke to the sounds of the generators starting.

As he briefly lay there in bed, he thought about how much the world had changed in the last few years.

And although the rest of the world was writhing in chaos, he was more at peace and enjoyed a level of comfort better than he had ever known before. Although it had demanded more ingenuity, courage, and determination than had ever been required of him, for the first time in his life, he felt like there was a direct connection between his actions and the quality of his life.

First came the pandemics, COVID-19, and all that followed.

They were then told to prepare for ’The Age of Pandemics,’ which initially killed over half a million Americans as they waited for each new outbreak before the CDC finally cracked a viral code common to some extent or the others, that could be quickly adapted to each new strain.

It was generally believed that over sixty per cent of the population was now dead.

That however, was not the real cause of the massive death toll.

Years ago, he had read about how cyber-terrorists were launching over thirty thousand internet cyber attacks against the United States and their allies every month...without success…but....

Because much like the theories of Quantum Mechanics, with infinite time, anything that can happen, will happen, and like the monkeys and the typewriters, eventually cyber-terrorists discovered the codes that were capable of deciphering the encryptions associated with the operating systems of every computer on the planet; banking, defense, security, the power grid, water levels, assembly lines, even the internet itself.

As he awoke, Elliott rubbed his eyes, got out of bed, washed his face, and put on his pants.

Although they spent years developing the deciphering as well as the actual destructive attacks, the consequences were catastrophic and swift.

They had not only managed to withdraw all the virtual monies out of all the North and South American, European, African, Swiss, North Korean and Japanese banks in the world, they had also placed a ‘Doomsday’ virus into their operating systems that caused them to destroy themselves, and their hardware, (much like the Stuxnet Virus), as well as all the records of all the accounts,

And when back-up systems and replacement programs were installed, the rest of the internet was so polluted with the Armageddon Virus that they were quickly rendered useless as well.

Elliott had not even touched a computer of any kind in several years,

Even if you had a printed statement from your bank, they were not being honored. There were not enough available funds to pay everybody, because most ‘money’ was virtual, which meant that there was not even enough paper money to cover the demands.

Aside from the five Federal Reserve Banks, no bank has ever held any substantial amount of precious metals within their vaults since the days of the gold rushes, and even paper money does not represent the listed value by any bank, since the vast majority of all wealth in this country was ‘virtual’ insofar as any transaction from one bank to another did not specifically represent a transfer of physical money so much as computer transfers of ‘virtual’ funds.

Elliott sat on the edge of the bed as he pulled on his boots.

And when you stop to think about it, in terms of real value or wealth, everything was Fugazi...Credit margins, speculations, investment futures, hedge funds...every dollar printed by the Federal Reserve represents approximately one hundred and three percent of the Gross Domestic Product, which is estimated as the amount of value added to the economy in production, which is more than ten times the wealth housed in all the federal reserve banks combined.

If all of this sounds like mouthwash for pigs, keep in mind that this represents the same principles that an embezzler uses to make money appear to be in more than one place at the same time.

(It is the basis of most wealth and financial growth, otherwise only possible in the Quantum Realm.)

Just then, his wife Chianna (pronounced Cheyanne-ah) came in to tell him that someone was at one of the perimeter posts, asking to come in. She had gotten up earlier than Elliott, and took the hand-held radio with her. When she started doing the laundry, the generators came on to provide the alternating current they required.

Ever since the collapse of the economy, Elliott and a group of his friends turned what had been a hunting lodge into a permanent residence on the edge of the Everglades.

Elliott was a middle-aged man that many would describe as ‘larger than life’. Although he was slightly shorter than most men, he embraced everything that interested him with a passion and intensity that was both awe-inspiring and somewhat intimidating that was quite purposeful.

He exercised regularly, particularly focusing on weightlifting and body-building, and had studied martial arts since his teens. In high school, as well as college, he had been on the gymnastics teams, allowing him to excel at a sport that did not require either teamwork, or size, but rather his singular prowess to achieve his desires. As a result, he was slightly stocky and very well-muscled.

Elliott was a multi-talented sportsman, who particularly enjoyed survival camping, hunting, fishing, and marksmanship.

He had an IQ of almost one hundred and forty and read omnivorously. At times, it seemed like he was intent on intimidating others on the rare occasions that he felt challenged, despite the fact that he tried whenever possible, to rely on charm to win over his allies. He preferred to be regarded as a great friend and a terrible enemy.

Although he often seemed very aggressive to the point of being intimidating, he truly despised confrontation, not unlike many of his other seemingly contradictory characteristics.

It was believed that the Armageddon computer virus was not even a single virus, but rather a series of interlocking programs that spread rapidly through any device that used the internet at all...even if only to use the National Observatory’s atomic clock for time reference standards.

Cars that used Onstar or satellite radio would not even start, or stopped within minutes; some crashed. Planes fell out of the skies all over the world. Several nuclear power plants melted down. Nuclear missiles went haywire.

More than ten years earlier, the terrorists had begun a plan that was only waiting for the success of the computer viruses for their initiation. They were in no hurry...after all, we may have had all the watches, but the terrorists had all the time in the world.

The stories about what happened next were largely speculative, because what happened next came mainly from word of mouth, due to the collapse of all of Western society and infrastructure.

Two days later, after the discovery of the cyber-attacks, at least twenty ‘dirty’ or ‘salted’ nuclear bombs were detonated by three stolen B-61 Mod 11 nuclear ‘bunker busters’ and a pair of ten-megaton hydrogen bombs of the Teller-Ulam design from former Soviet sources and several other devices of similar design from the other countries involved in the attacks.

The terrain of the area surrounding the Fort Knox Army base, for instance, is riddled with underground caverns that permitted tunneling through an area over five miles long from nearby Bardstown (the home of the Jack Daniels Distillery, by the way) to the United States Bullion Depository at Fort Knox with a minimum of true excavation.

The Chase Manhattan was surrounded by a maze of tunnels, some of which date back before the Revolutionary war.

The other three bullion depositories faced similar fates.

Elliott sighed and put on his shirt. He had no idea who it could be at the gate.

‘All the gold in Fort Knox’ (and the Federal Reserve Bank of Manhattan as well as the other two Treasury Department Banks that warehoused gold) was now radioactive. The fact that they had been entirely symbolic ever since it had been stored there really had little bearing on the perceptions of the people of the world.

Also, most of the gold owned by Germany, the second-largest owner of the world’s gold is stored in the Bullion Depository at Fort Knox and in Manhattan.

(Apparently, the terrorists had seen the movie ‘Goldfinger’, although they were not interested in any specific financial gain; after all, within two days they possessed all the virtual net worth of the all major powers of the world.)

They already had plenty of money, but the real point was to take it away from their enemies.

The attack was predominately a way of doing severe damage to the confidence of the American people and Western Civilization in general, in the liquidity of their governments.

After all, most of the net worth of anyone or any entity is based on a combination of faith in what amounts to ‘virtual money,’ credit, rather than cash and the mutual recognition of what constitutes value.

Between credit margins, and speculation, in a cashless society most people rarely ever touch any real money.

Chianna asked Who could it be?

Everyone that I know or trust is right here, as far as I know, and I don’t want anyone else to know we are here anyway. Elliott said.

To the radical Muslims and their allies, the result of the end of Western civilization was their precise goal. No more Hollywood (or Bollywood), no more televangelism, no more beer or whiskey commercials, no more live lingerie models, no more TV, no more Western aggression; Zionism as a world power would be crushed; no more internet porn and no more Christmas specials on television. No publicly available electricity in the West.

In just five explosions they had bombed the Western Hemisphere into the stone age...and abject poverty.

At least, that was the mythology that had become the accepted explanation. Most of the stories that were passed from one person to another verbally were based on speculation, rumors and whatever prejudice, preoccupation, or agenda of the teller.

A few amateur radio operators kept up their own news nets, but no one knew what to believe and if you were smart, you took it all with a grain of salt; after all, no matter what gossip you heard, most of it had no real bearing on your own current state of affairs.

They were all too often just the idle talk of the frightened and the doomed, who would have nothing else to say once the lives they had known evaporated.

As they left, Elliott strapped on his pistol belt,

Do you think that’s really necessary? Chianna asked.

I’d rather have it and not need it, than the other way around.

Elliott and Chianna began to walk to the perimeter outpost. It was not especially close, but ever since the Armageddon computer virus had forced them out to this remote new home, they walked virtually everywhere. No one was in any hurry, anyway, and fuel could be used for better purposes.

As a result, everyone was in better condition physically.

Chianna was no exception. She was very generously proportioned, and the picture of good health. Her dark brown tresses were beautifully maintained and cascaded around her shoulders in luxuriously loose curls.

Her skin was taught and flawless. Her posture was almost exaggeratedly perfect. Her dark brown eyes sparkled.

As they continued to the perimeter, neither of them could offer any suggestions as to who their ‘old friend’ could be.

What do you want for dinner tonight? Elliott asked.

I don’t know, Chianna replied. Any suggestions?

How about ‘gator tail? I just traded some yesterday. so it’s really fresh.

Sounds good. Fried or in a sauce?

I thought fried, with some cattail root and salad.

Elliott had heard stories of people who still chose to live in the cities, bloodthirsty cannibals, burglars, rapists and bandits feeding like vultures on a rotting carcass that was already nearly stripped to the bones.

The trick was to find a place where only certain individuals could survive, and even thrive in the midst of world chaos. The desert, the mountains, the deepest woods, the most isolated coastal regions and their islands as well as the few swamps in North America...and the Florida Everglades, which were really more like a flooded savanna, hence the Seminole expression ‘River of Grass.’

Virtually all of what constituted an economy was now based upon barter, trade...and theft.

One thing that had not changed was that all too often, keeping what you already have can be more difficult than getting it in the first place... ‘the same as it ever was....’

Those who had something of useful purpose as well as those who could do or make something because of what they knew fared much better than those highly trained aristocrats whose careers and knowledge or training were so specialized that they had no survival skills at all.

It was a very bad time for lawyers, public officers, (like judges or government officials), CEO’s, any level of vice-president of much of anything, actors, travel agents, airline stewardesses, motivational speakers, fitness trainers, life coaches, investment bankers, stock brokers, event planners, and pretty much anyone dependent upon performing either non-essential (or even essential) services for someone else.

What do you do when you realize that you have traded your entire life for money?

State governments were fucked, but the rich and privileged swine who had manipulated them all along just by virtue of what they possessed could continue to barter their influence over goods and commodities. At least they had a chance.

The police almost immediately took over most organized crime, and split what they couldn’t steal outright with those whose mutual interests might similarly prosper in deference to outright gang warfare, which nonetheless still flourished on a regular basis.

Their real problem was that they were mutually dependent. Organized Crime flourishes by providing the public with what they want that is illegal, and Police enforce their prohibition. With no laws, or money to spend or steal, there’s not much market for either one.

Our military forces faced mass desertions, but those who remained managed to maintain a small elite group of forces who operated much like Mosby’s Rangers during the Civil War, ‘requisitioning’ food and supplies as they deemed necessary.

All the armed services bases that remained open had to become self-sufficient by hunting, plowing, planting and farming almost every inch of their surrounding land near their bases, including the livestock they now tended.

Elliot was fortunate enough to have worked out a deal with a group of similarly minded individuals who owned a large tract of land that bordered on the Florida Everglades near Hendry county; mostly dry and wet savannas with patches of scrubby timber and wooded areas.

They all had hunted wild hog and deer on those lands together at various times throughout the years. They all possessed and represented a wide range of useful skills. Most of them were what had been called ‘trades people.’

Most people would have derisively referred to them as ‘survivalists’.

Although they themselves had no idea what exactly would precipitate that which some would come to call The End of Days, they knew that eventually, something would happen.

They were essentially autonomous, and lived relatively well in an otherwise dystopian and dangerous world.

It was as if the tables had been turned.

Most city-dwellers as well as most suburban commuters could not survive without the conveniences and trappings that had already enslaved them.

If you can’t seem to get what you think you want, learn to love what you have.

Chapter Two:

A Long Day’s Journey

Jedidiah Drummond awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon. It had been a long day’s journey to reach their camp; a temporary outpost so far off the beaten path as not to be discovered, it afforded safety in its isolation and a hidden underground larder of fuel and other supplies that would be needed for the last leg of their journey.

It was one of many FBO’s (fixed base of operations) that he used to conduct their business ventures.

By the time they had pitched their tents and set up camp, he was exhausted. Thankfully he slept undisturbed for longer than he could remember. It was so quiet that the dog had not even barked once.

He had slept most of the night in the ‘dreamless sleep of the dead,’ as he called it, and it wasn’t until early morning that he began to dream of earlier, simpler times so easy as to be taken for granted; so much so that they were more conspicuous in their absence than when their luxury had been everywhere amidst a sea of humanity drowning in its discontent.

As he slowly began to wake up, like a fish coming to the surface from the bottom of the sea, he heard soft feminine voices in hushed tones and the occasional clink or clatter one would associate with breakfast’s preparations.

This alone was such a luxury as he had not known for a very long time. He was usually the first to awake, and until recently, more often than not, in solitude. Although rarely wanting for company, he had chosen to live alone ever since his divorce, more years ago than he cared to remember.

Cliched phrases like ‘familiarity breeds contempt’ or ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ had been his guiding principles in times when the ambience of loneliness wafted like a heavy musk amongst the desperate souls trying fill a void that could not be displaced by money, security, or objects.

In the process, he had lost contact with all of his closest friends, mostly women, who grew weary of waiting for him to ‘seal the deal’ despite the fact that he believed that somehow, circumstances even he could not foresee would bring them back together again.

He believed they all needed time and space to mature and learn life lessons that they would never experience willingly at each other’s hands within the smothering, stifling influences of marriage, let alone monogamy.

More than once, he had begun to doubt those beliefs, but there was no way to turn back the clock, and he already knew that the only thing worse than the pangs of solitude was the suffocating tandem loneliness bereft of privacy or independence that two resentful souls, each a prisoner of the other’s misguided and fearful intentions could inflict upon each other in the name of Love.

He was right that there was no way for him to turn back the hands of time, but the Armageddon Virus had effectively stopped the clock of Western civilization dead in its tracks.

A misguided, digital, binary Jihad launched by opportunists, some of whom invoked the name of Allah to distort the teachings of Islam, fed by the endless provocations of those who would use the names of their gods to fuel an endless spiral of hatred and violence on both sides, it had seemed the End of Days was upon them all.

Yet beyond that, it was pure chance that had brought this group back together.

As he awoke this morning, finally realizing how much he now cherished this Here and Now moment amongst newly reunited old friends brought together by circumstance and common cause, this gratitude he felt was so overwhelming that he sighed deeply, eyes still unopened as he felt a lump grow in his throat.

For years, he had not allowed himself the luxury of tears, whether of joy or sorrow. ‘Men don’t cry.’ He had been raised to believe their was something wrong with him, even as a child, when circumstances too sorrowful for words had prompted him to allow his weakness to show, until at twelve, when his mother had died and his father, the toughest, yet kindest man he had ever known suddenly wept like a baby in front of him.

It so unnerved him that they never spoke of it again, until his father passed away, leaving him overcome with self-contempt over the most basic of human emotions.

Now, years later, in a world of chaos, loss, death, and despair, it had become the Tears of Joy that had been the hardest to suppress. Ironically, it had taken the collapse of Western civilization to put him in touch with an abiding sense of gratitude that permeated every blossom, or cool breeze, sip of clean water, or kind face he saw wherever he looked.

But old habits are hard to break, and as The Three Winds (as he called them) parted the flaps of his tent, bringing with them coffee, breakfast, and cannabis, he laughed and shook his head, coughing lightly to mask how glad he was just to be alive, right here, right now.

Chapter Three:

The Currency

Reviews for (Once in a...) Blue Agave Moon

[Chazz Vincent · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This novel is not for the faint of heart. Neff continually challenges his readers with vocabulary and plot lines that never underestimate his audience. The storyline is broad and diverse, ranging from Polyamory and societal norms to political analysis, Quantum Theory, the fine art of Distilling Moonshine, and asks 'What would you do after you realized that you had traded your entire life for money, and your instincts for Reason?"